Out On a Limb(6)

I choose to ignore his flippant use of the words wanted me and take a sharp turn away from my blunder. “Has that happened to you yet?” I ask, reaching for my drink, praying it can cool me off. “I got a doozy of a message last week on Instagram. Reese24 told me his dick would look huge in my baby-hand.”

“Oh my god.” Bo’s face distorts as he laughs in horror.

“Yep.”

“That’s so many layers of fucked-up.”

“Truly.”

“But…” Bo lifts two palms, mimicking a tilting scale.

“No,” I say, punctuated by a shocked laugh. “No. Don’t you dare.”

“I mean,” his eyes turn teasing as he shrugs, “he’s right. It probably would.”

“Oh my god.”

“It would do a great deal for the ego. Reese24 may be onto something.”

“Awful,” I sputter through a laugh. “You’re both awful.” I curl my lips up to my nose like the room stinks as Bo sits back comfortably, his arm once again resting behind me.

We continue to make small talk for enough time that Sarah’s playlist has now replayed 'Monster Mash' twice. Bo laughs at my theory around the song, unlike witch woman, and eventually decides he’ll need to do his own research with a thoughtful analysis of the lyrics once he gets home. The party is starting to die down when our conversation does too. A slow fade to contented quiet and a third round of drinks fetched by me.

But, oddly enough, our lull in conversation isn’t uncomfortable. I’ve been on plenty of dates where the banter stops flowing and it’s easier to either call it quits or take things back to someone’s apartment than it is to wait for the next quippy exchange to roll in. But tonight, there’s no shortage of topics and no fear of some forced, humourless conversation.

These quiet reprieves feel more like intermissions. As if we’re performing for each other. Taking turns being the entertainment and the entertained. Keeping each other laughing. Keeping each other guessing. It’s fun, and part of me wishes we had more time before Sarah and Caleb decide to kick everyone out for the night. But maybe I could convince him to stay a little longer.

Given everything I’ve learned about Bo so far, I’ll have to take the lead. He’s so completely unaware of his own charm it’s comical. He’s shy, almost. I could see him asking for my number, but I doubt he’d be bold enough to ask me back to his place. Which, I’ve decided, is what I want to do.

“Is this a wig?”

I don’t notice until I feel the back of Bo’s finger brush my cheek, but he’s holding a strand of my hair between his thumb and pointer finger, twiddling it mindlessly.

“No, that’s all me.” I gulp as his thumb grazes the underside of my chin.

He continues twisting my hair through his fingers, curling it around the backs of his knuckles as if it’s a snake he’s charmed. I fight the urge to crawl into his lap and purr.

“Sorry,” he whispers, wetting his lips. I notice that he doesn’t let go, however.

“I don’t mind,” I answer softly. What I should say is: keep touching me. Anywhere you’d like.

“It’s beautiful,” he tells me, looking at me with an unsteadying lack of humour. He releases my hair and leans back, taking a long breath that flares his nostrils. “I’ve had too much punch, probably.”

“I really didn’t mind.” I lean in, trying to catch his gaze. Attempting to plea with him, silently, to ask for more. But it’s no use. He’s so gorgeous, yet clearly oblivious of that fact. It’s as endearing as it is frustrating.

So I decide enough is enough. I can take charge. I’m a modern woman, dammit. I can go after what I want, even if I don’t exactly practise that concept in my daily life. I can do this.

“Bo, would you like to go upstairs with me?” I ask, my voice a touch louder than intended after forcing myself to speak with confidence.

His eyes widen in surprise, and his head tilts. “Upstairs?”

I didn’t count on having to repeat myself. Or clarify. I feel like covering my face with a couch cushion, but screw it. I’m in it now. “Would you, maybe, like to go have sex with me? I have a room here,” I explain, trying my best to keep my spine straight in order to not shrink into myself. The illusion of confidence is key.

“Here?” His brow twists in confusion.

“Yes?”

“Do—do you live here?”

“No, I just stay here a lot.” I wait a few seconds, hoping he’ll put me out of my misery, but he appears far off and a little stunned. Was I truly misinterpreting all of this? I’ve been off before, but never this much. This seemed like a sure thing.

He laughs nervously, his head hanging. “Uh, actually, um—”

Blame the neon punch, I tell myself. “Sorry. Forget I said anything.” I will lie to myself in order to move past this. Bo is a virgin. Celibate due to his solemn lifelong vow. I’ve been the most tempting offer he’s ever had, but he must stay strong. It’s not me. It’s not me! It’s not—

“No,” he says a little too forcefully. “Don’t—don’t forget it. Uh, sorry, it’s just”—he shakes his head—“I haven’t since…” His eyes fall to where his hand rests on his knee, right above where his prosthesis begins.